


221B Baker St/Sherlock bbc

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Housekeeper is here, POV Outsider, Sherlock and Molly being idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ship: Sherlolly A young girl decides to go out on her own and become the housekeeper to 221B Baker St. My first Sherlock bbc fanfiction so please have some mercy if I get somethings wrong and the characters don't act like they usually do.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Kudos: 5





	1. 221B Baker St

Bini Filters's POV

I hugged my black coat around my body tighter as I walked down Baker ST and stopped at my destination. 221B Baker ST. It was pouring in London. Again. This didn't surprise me at all.

I stared at the black door that was beside a small cafe. regretting walking all the way here. Maybe this was a bad time...maybe this is a bad idea. I might be too young for this job but I have to try. I pushed my anxiety down and did three firm knocks on the door with my small fist.

The door opened to reveal a sweet-looking older lady smiling down at me. The wife of that drug lord a few years ago. She looks nicer than I expected. I gave her a weak smile back.

"Hi, are you Mrs. Hudson?" I asked. To confirm I was at the right residence.

"Yes, I am, deary. What can I help you with?" She replied. I took a gulp of air before I spoke.

"I...um...am here...to be an interview for the housekeeping position. My name is Bini Filters." I replied nervously. She tilted her head slightly in confusion.

"Aren't you a bit young, dear? How old are you?" She asked.

"Um, 17, Mrs. Hudson," I replied. She seemed to stop and consider me for a moment. Pondering the situation carefully as I gulped. I am really regretting this. "Please, please give me a chance," I begged.

"Alright, I will have the boys test you then." She said with a sweet smile. Who the hell are "the boys?"

"The boys?" I repeated. "Um, who are they?"

"Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson of course. Surely you have heard of them." Ohhhhh, damn it. No wonder Mrs. Hudson's name sound familiar. This is where that famous detective lives who creeps everyone out. OK, this just got a lot harder.

"Boys! There is another one!" She called upstairs. I heard a muffled reply and she gestured me to follow me.

I entered the house, carefully closing the door behind me. I followed Mrs. Hudson up a rather old looking staircase to the top floor, where the door opened to reveal a very messy apartment that had papers thrown everywhere. I carefully stepped over them and look up to see two men sitting in chairs in front of the fireplace, staring back at me.

One of them was a tall man, pale with curly short hair and strong cheekbone, who I identified as Mr. Holmes based on the fact that I see him in newspapers often with a silly hat on. The other man looked like he had seen somethings that no one should ever see, his hair was graying but he still looked rather young. Dr Watson.

Mrs. Hudson gestured me to sit down in a chair in front of them as if I was here on some case. In a way I supposed I am. I sat down and we had a moment of awkward silence as we all stared at each other before Mr. Holmes finally spoke.

"Blind in one eye has anxiety and depression and lives in a foster home." He concluded. What the hell? How the hell did he know that? I looked at Dr. Watson, expecting some sort of reaction to explain what just happened but nothing. He just smiled at me.

"H-how?" I stammered, shifting uncomfortably as I scratched my arm.

"Your right eye doesn't dilate, doesn't move and you seem to rely more on your left side then right despite the fact that you are right-handed. You have depression based on the tremor in your hands, the fact that you can't stop scratching your right arm implies that the injuries you gave yourself are acting up. You don't sleep well based on the dark circles around your eyes. Your clothes suggest that they are not new and haven't been for a while, stating that you haven't had new clothes in a while. Hand me downs. Your phone," He continued, gesturing to the cheap one in my pocket "is something you find more important than family based on the damage it has. And finally, depression usually follows anxiety. I can see it on your face."

"...That...is really something else." I managed to say after a full minute of just staring at him in surprise and slight horror.

"I hear you want to be the new housekeeper." Dr. Watson finally spoke up, trying to shift the subject to something less disturbing as Mr. Holmes relaxed in her chair.

"Um, yes," I replied with a polite nod.

"You know that it would require you to...live here right?"

"That is one of the main reasons I took it."

"Of course." Mr. Holmes muttered. I ignored him, doing my best to not snap of a sarcastic comment.

"And the pay." I continued. "I am trying to start living on my own and this would be a big step in my improvement."

"Good, good." Dr. Watson said with a nod. "Are you OK with a gun being fired?"

"Why would a gun be shot in this house?" I asked. Dr. Watson gave Mr. Homes a look, that Mr. Holmes rolled his eyes to and gestured to the back wall. I turned to see multiple bullet holes in the wall. More than any wall should have even if it was a drug den.

"I...suppose I am." 

"Are you alright with violin music?"

"Yes."

"Are you alright with finding body parts in the fridge once in a while?"

"I have never had to experience that so I don't know how to respond." I truthfully replied as a moment of consideration.

"A simple yes or no will do." Mr. Holmes snapped. I recoiled as Dr. Watson glared at him.

"Y-yyyeeesss?"

"Good."

I relaxed a little as my anxiety went down slightly. Not a lot. I was still panicking.

"That is enough, deary. Why don't you wait in the front hall as we make our decision?" Mrs. Hudson suggested. I nodded and left the flat, making my way down the staircase as three muffled voices started to argue. I nervously started to pace. And pace. And pace, for what felt like a good ten minutes.

The door finally opened and Mrs. Hudson walked out and met me at the bottom of the staircase with a big smile.

"You have the job. It took a bit of convincing from John but Sherlock finally agreed." I stood there dumbfounded. How did I actually get this job? "I must admit we are worried about your mental health and want to help."

"Hold on. They don't even know my name!" I argued, trying to understand how any of this made sense.

"I told them once you left. Don't worry. Now, follow me. I will show you to your room now." She said. I nodded and followed her to the back of the house on the first floor.

\---

Screw the foster home. I entered my room after dinner which was...eventful. I have never seen anyone talk about a dead body with so much joy in my life. But now I have. From Sherlock Holmes. I knew he was werid but that conversation was something else.

I flopped on my bed and pulled out my phone, trying to come up with a text to break the news to my caretaker that I wouldn't be coming back. I have a new home now. I wouldn't bother going back. All I really needed was my phone and Mrs. Hudson offered to get me some supplies from the store tomorrow so that is good.

How about...

(Sorry, I can't come back -BF)

No, that sounds like I have been kidnapped.

(Sorry, I have a new home and job. -BF)

That still doesn't work. What the hell am I supposed to write?

(Sorry, I have a new life without you. -BF)

Dear god, this is getting worse. It sounds like I am breaking up with her. This should be simple? Suddenly I got a text from my caretaker.

(Didn't see you at dinner. Why? -CM)

OK...OK...play this cool.

(I am living somewhere else now. -BF)

Good, good. Very direct. Blunt.

(What? -CM)

I thought that made sense.

(I am living somewhere else now. -BF)

(Where? -CM)

(Why does it matter? -BF)

(So I can come to pick you up and knock some sense into you. You are too young to be living on the streets. -CM)

Oh...She thinks I have made myself homeless.

(I am not living on the streets! I live in a flat for god sake. I am a housekeeper now for some tenants. -BF)

(Where? -CM)

(221B Baker St. -BF)


	2. A head in the fridge

This was my second day at 221B Baker St, Mrs. Hudson and I went out and brought some groceries. "Some" is being kind. Really we practically bought out the store because Mrs. Hudson doesn't like to go to the grocery store and buys enough for the month.

"I don't understand why you buy their groceries. You aren't their housekeeper. I am...now." I commented as we entered through the front door and I used my foot to shut it. I carefully brought the groceries to the kitchen, separating Mr. Holmes's groceries with Mrs. Hudson's. 

"Those silly boys constantly forget to buy their own, especially when they are on a case." She said as I finished separating the pile. I shoved Mr. Holmes groceries into the plastic bags we just used and left the first kitchen. I marched up the stairs and entered Mr. Holmes flat. Trying to not step on his paper, I waddled over to the kitchen and opened the fridge to find a head's dead eyes staring back at me.

Holy shit.

I closed the fridge. Unsure of what I just saw was real. I opened it again to see...the head. Why is there a head in the fridge? OK...Chill. I started putting away the groceries, trying to ignore the dead eyes staring back at me. I put the milk away. Couldn't help but look at the head. Why is there a head in the fridge? OK, quit repeating yourself.

I shut the fridge and started putting stuff in the cupboards. Trying to clean up the experiments leftover from whatever he was working on. I cleaned the counters and scrubbed the floor. Took me roughly four hours. When I finally stopped, I was exhausted, I dragged myself over to Mr. Holmes sofa. Unable to find the energy to make myself go to my own room, I collapsed on the sofa and fell asleep.

\---

I woke up to the sounds of someone talking. I opened my good eye to see a small girl sitting with her back facing me, talking about a cat. Mr. Holmes looked bored out of his mind as his head rested on his fist and Dr. Watson did his best to seem genuinely concerned.

"And so, Mr. Snuffles is now forever gone and I can't find him without your help, Mr. Holmes!" The girl pleaded. Mr. Holmes rolled his eyes and got up. Standing with his back to us as I sat up, rubbing my eyes. He sharply turned back to face us with a cold expression.

"Boring."

Damn. That's rough.

"B-Boring!?" She stammered. "This is my cat's life at stake!"

"It is clear that your boyfriend...excuse me...Ex-Boyfriend stole your cat. Based on the evidence and using simple deduction it is clear he stole your cat. Boring. Leave!" He barked. Dr. Watson stood up and apologized to the crying girl as she headed out. Cursing Holmes and cursing her boyfriend as she slammed the front door.

Mrs. Hudson stared at them in silence as Dr. Watson argued with Mr. Holmes about his manners. Mr. Holmes argued with him that manners weren't as important as he thought they were. He was living in a world of delusion according to Mr. Holmes.

I yawned as Mrs. Hudson handed me a cup of tea.

"How are you doing, Bini?" Dr. Watson asked.

"Fine. Sorry about falling asleep, Dr. Watson. Mr. Holmes."

"Please, call us John and Sherlock. It's fine. Also thanks for cleaning up the kitchen that place was a mess." Dr. Wats-John stated. I nodded in thanks and took a sip of tea.

"Can I ask why there was a head in the fridge?"

John looked over to Sherlock in alarm.

"Again? Where the hell are you getting these heads, Sherlock?" John demanded as Sherlock picked up a case and reviewed it.

"Molly Hooper of course." He replied as if everyone was supposed to know that. I don't know who that it.

"Who is Molly Hooper?" I asked as Sherlock left the living room to go to his own room. John smirked and patted me on the back. Sitting with me on the sofa.

"Molly Hooper is a girl who works in the morgue down at St Bartholomew's Hospital. Everyone knows they like each other." John replied. That is surprising. Yeah, I have only known Sherlock for one day and the times I have read about him in the paper. But somehow I can't see Sherlock in a relationship. He is too much of a...cock. Haha. John taught me that one last night.

"I don't mean to sound...Well...like an arrogant fool but I really can't see Sherlock in any relationship." I admitted.

"I know that he seems pretty much like an arse. But deep down he has a heart, no matter how much he denies it." John said with a chuckle. I drowned down the last of my tea and got up, smoothing out my red sweater with a comic book shirt and blue jeans with white and yellow soaks. I tied my dirty blond hair into a ponytail and brushed my bangs aside as I started out of Sherlock's flat. Pausing for a moment before looking back to John.

"When can I meet this Molly Hooper?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"She might be over tonight." 

"Good...Good." I said as I left the room. Going down the stairs and entering my room. I grabbed my phone and connected to the internet, typing in the search words: Molly Hooper. The search image revealed that Molly Hooper was a thirty-one, a girl in a lab coat with long hair to the side. Staring at Sherlock with clear affection in a newspaper article.

They are really something else. Sherlock may be a genius but he is also an idiot. So is Molly. I don't know much or anything about Molly so I can't judge her. Or Sherlock for that matter on how they handle relationships. Hell. I have no interest in being in a relationship so I have no reason to say anything about how they are handling it. But seriously, based on this image, Molly Hooper loves Sherlock Holmes. And I don't know what to do with that information.

"BINI! I need your help!" Mrs. Hudson called across the house. I replugged my phone and ran out of my room towards the flat. 

"Coming!"

\---

I stood in the front hall with Sherlock, I was tasked with holding the damn head. Why am I the one that has to hold the head? Why did I let Sherlock shove it into my arms!?

"Who are we waiting for?" I asked.

"Molly Hooper." Sherlock replied. Oh, so I finally get to meet the love interest. John was right, she is coming tonight. The door opened to reveal Molly Hooper, she looked exactly like her image online except she was in a sweater and baggy clothes.

"Hello, you must be Bini Filters. Sherlock told me all about you. I am Molly Hooper." She introduced with a handshake. I shook her hand and looked over to Sherlock for an explanation, which he, of course, didn't give.

"Hi, nice to meet you...um..." I held up the head towards her. "Are you here for whoever this is?"

"Yes, thanks!" She said, carefully taking the head from and looking back to Sherlock as an awkward silence befell us. I moved away slowly, letting them have some time alone as they seemed to need it. They had a short and sweet conversation, I didn't hear what they said to each other, as I was in my room.

I picked up my phone and checked my messages. Seeing one last message from my caretaker.

(I hope you make it in life. Good luck at 221B. -CM)

I smiled and closed my phone. I hope so too. I deleted her contact and put my phone down. End of an era.


	3. Bisquits

AN: We are currently in season 3, episode 2, from an outsider's POV. Somehow I am now writing the episodes from an outsider's POV.

Bini Filters's POV

I had been at Baker St for about a month, John and Mrs. Hudson were cooler people than I thought. Mrs. Hudson's husband ran a drug cartel for goodness sake! John is engaged to a lady named...what's her name...Mary Morston, that's right. I met her for a short time, a nice lady. Strange hair.

I took out the vacuum cleaner and dragged it over to Sherlock's carpet. I quickly moved the paper scattered around, the guy may be a genius but damn is he making my life hard! This was supposed to be a simple job but no! Case notes everywhere! I kicked them aside. Mumbling to myself about nonsense. I turned on the vacuum and started to clean up the dirt.

I hummed to myself as I did the clean. Trying to block out the noise of the annoying vacuum cleaner. I felt something tap my shoulder, I yelled in alarm and stumbled back to see Mollie Hooper back away in horror as I felt to the floor.

"Ow...Wha-Mollie?" I blurted out in confusion.

"Bini! I am so sorry!" She apologized. I waved it off with a chuckle.

"It's-It's fine. Don't worry about it." I said as I got up. Picking myself up and turning off the vacuum so I could hear her. "What are you doing here?"

"Sherlock called me over, said he needed my help and to meet him here. But..." She looked around the living room, where one would usually find Sherlock if he was home. "He doesn't seem to be here. Strange."

Suddenly we heard a bang of the front door opening, we stood still as Sherlock bust into the room, John nowhere in sight. He grabbed his laptop and opened it up. Slamming a small but big at the same time book on the table.

"Sherlock? What is going on?" Mollie asked in concern as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Help." He barked. "I need help."

"That's a first." I sarcastically said. Mollie and Sherlock glared at me for a moment before he held up the book for us to see. “How to write an unforgettable best man speech” Oh. This is about the upcoming wedding. Of course, it is. What was I expecting?

"You are the best man?" Mollie said in shock. Yeah, yeah that is amazing! He ignored our surprises in the latest events and rolled his eyes.

"I need help! Do you have any funny stories about John?"

"I saw him fall down the stairwell once. That was pretty funny." I commented. Mollie and Sherlock didn't think it was funny though. Buzzkills. He glanced at the sky was it turned to night and started frantically typing someone. I slowly moved to his side and looked to see him texting that police guy...Greg, his name was Greg. I can't remember his last name ironically when Sherlock has the opposite problem. 

"HELP.  
BAKER ST.  
NOW.  
HELP ME.  
PLEASE. -SH)

I drew back, he was really freaking out about this. Mollie and Sherlock got into an argument. Like a couple argument. Mollie thought he was being silly and Sherlock though she wasn't taking the situation seriously enough.

I started shoving the vacuum cleaner into the closet as Greg entered the flat in a panic. It looked like he ran five blocks. He hadn't noticed us yet as he narrowed in on Sherlock who was sitting at his computer, losing his mind. At least I think he is.

"What’s going on?" He asked, out of breathe.

"This is hard." Sherlock announced.

"WHAT?" Greg snapped in disbelief.

"Really hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do." Sherlock exclaimed, grabbing the book and showing it to him. "Have you any funny stories about John?"

Greg looked back at him in disbelief as the distant sounds of sirens and helicopters grew closer and closer and then stopped at 221B Baker St. Oh, Sherlock. What the hell have you done? Mollie groaned and slumped to the sofa, shaking her head in disbelief. Sherlock looked out the window and then back at Greg.

"Didn’t go to any trouble, did you?"

'Oh lord." I said as I sat down next to Mollie.

\---

(Next morning)

I yawned as I woke up earlier in the morning. Hearing the now-familiar sound of Sherlock playing upstairs. I yawned and rolled over in my bed, not calculating how much room I actually had on that mattress and managed to fall on the floor. I swore loudly, thanking the lord that no one heard me. Probably because of Sherlock's playing that drowned me out.

I stumbled up and crawled over to the door, while holding my head. I stumbled up and opened the door, following Mrs. Hudson upstairs to Sherlock's flat where I was on a mission to make him shut it! Mrs. Hudson stopped at the top of the stairs. Smiling at the music as she held her tea tray. She noticed me and I gave her a weak smile.

She opened the door as I made my way to the top. We were both expecting to see Sherlock playing his classic violin. But instead, he was dancing around the room. Practicing for John's wedding that was coming...soon? Damn it, I am bad at dates. It's tomorrow right? How the hell did I not memorize this? I am invited to the blasted thing for goodness sake!

"Shut up, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock abruptly said, interrupting my spirling thought process that was about to throw me into deep depression again.

"I haven’t said a word." Mrs. Hudson argued as she set down the tea tray and started pour tea for Sherlock and I as I stood there like an idiot. Sherlock sighed as he continued to do the waltz around the living room with his playing in the background.

"You’re formulating a question. It’s physically painful watching you thinking." Sherlock snapped as he stopped and took the tea that Mrs. Hudson handed to him, then one to me that I took with thanks and moved to sit on the sofa.

"I thought it was you playing."

Sherlock gestured to the music player on the dining room table that was near me, still playing the violin music. He grabbed the remote control and switched off the music player and wrote some notes on his music sheet before taking a sip of his tea.

"That is me playing. I am composing." Sherlock coldly replied.

"You were dancing." Mrs. Hudson corrected.

"I was road-testing." He muttered. Wait, what? What does that mean?

"You what?" I asked. Sherlock threw down his pen and glared at us.

"Why are you two here?" He asked in annoyance.

"I’m bringing you your morning tea." Mrs. Hudson replied. I didn't say anything because I really had no reason to be here. "You’re not usually awake."

"You bring me tea in the morning?" Sherlock asked in surprise.

"Well, where d’you think it came from?!" 

"I don’t know. I just thought it sort of happened."

"Your mother has a lot to answer for."

"Mm, I know. I have a list. Mycroft has a file." Sherlock replied, sipping his tea. Who is Mycroft? Mrs. Hudson sat in John's chair, giggling at Sherlock as she poured herself a cup.

"So – it’s the big day, then!"

"What big day?" Sherlock asked. Aw, damn it. It is today! Wrong again! 

"The wedding! John and Mary getting married!"

"Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday and then carry on living together. What’s big about that?" Sherlock asked.

"It changes people, marriage."

"Mmm, no it doesn’t.' Sherlock argued.

"Well, you wouldn’t understand ’cause you always live alone." Mrs. Hudson replied. I couldn't help but chuckle into my tea cup.

"Your husband was executed for double murder. You’re hardly an advert for companionship." Sherlock barked back as he took a sip of his drink.

"Marriage changes you as a person, in ways that you can’t imagine."

"As does lethal injection." Sherlock snapped back, smiling pointedly at her.

"My best friend, Margaret, she was my chief bridesmaid." Mrs. Hudson started. Sherlock put down his tea and rolled his eyes. Here it comes, Storytime with Mrs. Hudson. "We were going to be best friends forever, we always said that; but I hardly saw her after that."

Sherlock stood up and looked over to the tea tray with impatience.

"Aren’t there usually biscuits?"

"I’ve run out."

"Have the shops?" He asked in annoyance, pointing towards the door as he walked towards it. Mrs. Hudson, of course, ignored him.

"She cried the whole day, saying, “Ooh, it’s the end of an era.” Mrs. Hudson relayed. Sherlock, then, standing beside the door, gestured towards the stairs.

"I’m sure the shop on the corner is open."

"She was probably right, really."

Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned against the door in defeat.

"I remember she left early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early?" Mrs. Hudson continued on. She shook her head sadly. "So sad."

"Mmm. Anyway, you’ve got things to do. Bini has things to do." Sherlock interrupted. Bring Mrs. Hudson out of her story. She turned in John's chair and glared at Sherlock.

"No, not really. I’ve got plenty of time to..."

"Biscuits." He said sternly. She got out of the chair and started tutting as she walked towards the door.

"I really am going to have a word with your mother." She muttered.

"You can if you like. She understands very little." He replied as she left, then gestured for me to leave. I rolled my eyes and drained the rest of my cup. Placing it down and running out before Sherlock gave me a piece of his mind.


	4. Bridesmaid

AN: Sorry, this is a shorter one, I am going through writer's block so the next chapter might take a while.

Bini Filters's POV

The church bells rang as I followed the group of bridesmaids since I was one...Somehow. I think Mary just had pity for me and put me on the stupid committee. God, I hate wearing dresses. I stood to the side as John and Mary, newly married, walk out of the entrance followed by Sherlock and Janine, the chief of the Bridemaids and the Best man. The photographer is waiting to snap a picture.

"Congratulations! Okay, hold it there – I wanna get this shot of the newlyweds."

John and Mary came to a stop as us, the bridesmaids moved to stand behind them for the sake of the background. Sherlock steps forwards to be beside Mary, everyone gave him a confused look.

"Er, just the bride and groom, please."

Sherlock didn't move. This is what I should have expected. This is funnier than it should be. John looked around at him with an expression that looked like he wants to kill him.

"Sherlock?"

"Oh, sorry."

Sherlock moved backwards. 

"Okay – three, two, one, cheese!"

\---

The reception is something else. People-watching is one of my favourite past times. When people don't think they are being watched, they do some stupid things and reveal emotions that they really shouldn't. For Example, take Molly Hooper for example.

I was standing in the corner, alone. Just how I like it. Sherlock and Janine were talking and nearby stood Molly Hooper and her fiance. Now, the problem with this scene is how Molly was looking at Sherlock. She probably thinks "Hey! I have a fiance now. I am over Sherlock." but her face was filled with affection to Sherlock, yeah. She was not over him.

Janine turned to Sherlock with a big smile after the photographer took a picture of them and moved on. She elbowed him to get his attention, as Molly couldn't stop staring. Luckily I was in earshot of the conversation.

"The famous Mr. Holmes! I’m very pleased to meet you. But no sex, okay?" She chirped. Sherlock looked back at her, clearly startled.

"Um, sorry?" Sherlock replied, clearly uncomfortable.

"You don’t have to look so scared. I’m only messing. Bridesmaid, best man ... It’s a bit traditional." She replied, gently punched his arm. Molly's face turned from affection to clear jealously towards Janine.

"Is it?"

"But not obligatory!"

"If that’s the sort of thing you’re looking for..." He jerked his head towards one of the guests "...the man over there in blue is your best bet. Recently divorced doctor with a ginger cat...a barn conversion...and history of erectile dysfunction. Reviewing that information, possibly not your best bet."

Oof. Good job, Sherlock.

"Yeah, maybe not.' Janine said with a smile. I looked over to Molly who was fuming.

"Sorry," He apologized. "There was one more deduction there than I was expecting."

"Mr. Holmes..." Janine said, taking his arm. "You’re going to be incredibly useful."

Sherlock looked down at her with a frown before they moved away. Leaving Molly. Damn, I feel bad for her now.  
\---  
I could go on and explain what else happened during the wedding. If I could understand what the hell even happened. But I will explain this the best I can. Sherlock made a speech, it made some people cry actually. Anyway, towards the end of the speech, Sherlock suddenly started telling us about a case that prompted Tom to stand up and suggest "Meat Dagger."

I am not going to pretend to know why saying Meat Dagger is wrong...Wait, let me think about this. A guy taking a shower was stabbed with the cubical locked shut with a...meat...dagger. OK, I see how that is an idiot answer. Good job, Tom. Good choice, Molly.

I couldn't help but sit there and giggle, Molly kept giving me the shut up look. I, of course, couldn't shut up and kept laughing. Then Sherlock went into his mind palace, had that glazed over look in his eyes as he continued to tell us about the case.

\---

I was ready to leave. Immediately. The moment everyone started dancing, that was my cue to leave. Unfortunately, my anxiety kept me there because I was afraid to leave by myself. I crossed the room, dodging people as they danced and talked in groups. Watching for any sign of escape.

Then I saw him, Sherlock leaving the venue. I knew I could count on him! I quickly grabbed my jacket and ran outside after him. I finally caught up to him after he put on his coat and silent followed beside him. We had a moment of silence as we crossed the field.

"Why are you following me?" He asked. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself," I replied. "I needed a way to escape and you were my ticket out."

"Interesting." He replied as we walked towards the street and he called a cab nearby.


End file.
